After having experienced the heaviest workload in the history of POKE, I’m really looking forward to going to Hel. Now, Hel is not one of my misspelled swedish errors, it’s a place in Poland, where Willow and I are going for a one week holiday starting tomorrow. So with this I tell you I leave you wherever you are, leaving for Hel, and speak to you again in a week.
Every post on the blog hear are full off mistake. Grammar mostly, but also spealing. And it’s not looking to become less. I knew this because must posts are getting corrected by willow the day after or so they been posted.
My speaking isn’t getting any better either. My good friend and colleague Simon Waterfall can vouch for that.
So I have come to the conclusion that Mr language and me aren’t best friends.
Either,
because I’m raised in one country, have a father from another and live in a third, where non of the three share language or currency.
Or,
my right brain hemisphere has got a bigger and better engine then my left - my dominant hemisphere is the right one. The frontal lobe of the dominant hemisphere controls language, speech and writing. The left hemisphere is important for all forms of communication, while the right specialises in receiving and analysing information from the outside world. The only thing that doesn’t fit into this equation is that normally if you are right handed, your left hemisphere is the dominant one.
I wasn’t “build” to speak three languages - just something that happened, and therefore - I speak three (and understand 6) but master none.
It’s a different thing going to a concert and seeing a band where the members are old enough to be your dad. Next to the tick-boxes on your criteria sheet you will not find:
You expect routine and brilliance most bands totally lack, purely due to less experience. You expect that the fact that they have been playing and performing together longer than you have been alive should show and amaze you.
Other bands that I have seen that falls into the same category are, in chronological order:
The latest member to be added to this list is, as you might have figure out, the daddy for many rock bands - The Rolling Stones, 1962. But I’m afraid that it is the list’s weakest member.
Before I start ranting on about my disappointment and so on, I must confess that I don’t know The Rolling Stones. I didn’t listen to them growing up and I haven’t had much enjoyment of them later in life. I don’t own a single Rolling Stones album or memory. This is simply because what I have heard is nothing I’ve been too impressed with… but looking back on my list again - that was the case with Iggy Pop and The Ramones as well and they didn’t disappoint me.
Basically this is what I knew before the concert, and some of it may not be all true (don’t see it as facts):
I knew that Mick Jagger is the lead singer, and that he has impregnated a lot of women around the world and likes to date and marry models. Even though it might look like he’s related to Aerosmith Steve Taylor and the guitar god Steve Vai, he’s not. I knew that the guitarist is Keith Richards, and that he really likes wearing a bandana around his head, John Rambo style, and a Fender Telecaster resting on his left shoulder.
I knew that their most famous graphic representation is the tongue and lip logo… and I kind of knew that they wrote the song Sympathy for the Devil and Satisfaction.
So my hopes on this gig weren’t high, I just wanted to get an explanation and understanding on why The Rolling Stones are one of the longest running and most successful rock acts in show business, and why they keep filling stadiums and arenas around the world, being the highest grossing act the year that they tour. I didn’t expect to leave the stadium in south west London buying a tongue belt clip and going home with an urge to learn how to play the songs on the guitar. I just wanted to understand. Which, you might have figured out - I didn’t.
Maybe they are to old, but then should they play? It felt almost like if you took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in the museum instead of the theatre. The stage looked and felt oversized. When Mick or Keith moved over to the far end of the stage, to salute the people sitting on the sides, everyone stood up and applaud - it felt like we applaud the fact that they actually made the afford to make it over.
It definitely didn’t sound like these boys have been playing together for what, 44 years? And that you can’t even justify with old age, maybe old age in combination with a lot of drugs, but then again - should they play if they can’t actually play. Parts were dreadful. The sound were horrible.
What’s up with all the changing of clothes? When did changing clothes between every other song become a part of a rock act?
And if you have been to a few bigger concerts you weren’t impressed by the show either - the fire, the moving stage, the big screens. 80000 people payed about £150 each. That should be enough to make something a bit more spectacular. Again, they are suppose to be the highest grossing act the year that they tour.
I know, they probably changed the cause of rock history. They probably have inspired thousands of bands. 10 years ago they probably held amazing shows. I should probably shout the F up and show them some respect. But that was then - thanks you. Not now.
I think most people, including me, go to see The Rolling Stones because people say that The Rolling Stones is one of those things you should see (before they die). People, including me, go to see them so that they can tell other people they have seen them and the person being told knows who ‘They’ are. Most people don’t know the history. Most people don’t know the songs. Most people are people like me. And if I hadn’t gotten the ticket for free - I wouldn’t have gone. And if anyone is planning to go and see one of the best rock acts in the world ever - please book tickets for AC/DC. They will never ever let anyone down. I believe, and hope - the day they can’t play - they don’t.
The name Rolling Stones comes from the the proverb “A rolling stone gathers no moss”, which has two meanings: 1) people pay a price for being always on the move, in that they have no roots in a specific place (the original meaning); 2) people who keep moving avoid picking up responsibilities and cares.
So that’s the relationship between the band ‘The Rolling Stones’ and the Bob Dylan song ‘Like A Rolling Stone’… that, the proverb, and maybe the irony of coincidence between the proverb, the band and the lyric of Bob Dylans song.
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?
People’d call, say, “Beware doll, you’re bound to fall”
You thought they were all kiddin’ you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out
Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
The last few weeks have been very very busy. And I mean - very very busy. For me and for everyone else in the office. 17 odd deadlines in 14 days is what I was told we had. I don’t know if less or more have been delivered (or how accurate the numbers are). I’ve been to busy finishing the one I’ve been working on for the last 6-7 weeks.
All 17 weren’t massive projects, but it’s still 1.2142857 projects to deliver every day during 14 days…
Anatomy of Attention is a great post over at vvillovv’s. It’s about the ‘Me Me Me and I’. About the spotlights of the world. The world where I is definitely more important then us, we or them.
It’s nothing new that the bush administration, or even american politics, or even just politics and politicians in general, have been accused of using fear as their favourite weapon of choice. Painting up a false reality and a oversized threat, and then glorifying themselves as the savior with the solution.
But how far back does this kind of ‘politics of fear’ stretch?
Last week (or so) I read a review in Guardian Unlimited newspaper on the book ‘The Myth of Evil’ by Phillip Cole. The review was very shot, but it touched upon the subject ‘politics of fear’ and where the fear strategy comes from.
Does evil really exist? No, thinks Phillip Cole, but it is extremely useful as a political myth. His varied and interesting cultural study of the idea begins by tracing the literary development of Satan…
…interlude for witch-hunting and the less familiar epidemics of vampires in 18th-century central Europe…
… Cole ends with an evocative analysis of current politics about “the terrorist and the migrant” in the terms ha has built on while discussing witches and monsters. “what we have here is a mythology of the evil enemy, such that that enemy possesses the demonic, supernatural power needed to destroy our communities.” Cole doesn’t intend it as such, naturally, but it’s almost like an instructional manual for the Daily Mail.
Satan. Witches. Vampires. Terrorist.
I haven’t read the book - just the review. But it truly seems to be an interesting read.
The choice of leading image to this post is simply because the review brought back memories of the brilliant film ‘Monty Python & the Quest for the Holy Grail’, and the scene where they want to burn a witch.
So, logically…, If… she.. weighs the same as a duck, she’s made of wood. And therefore? A witch! A witch!
Ohh! Ohh! Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! Ahh! Ahh…
Whether evil is a myth or not, or if i will buy and read Phillip Coles book - I don’t know - but I will definitely see The Quest for the Holy Grail again ;)
The 44 links posted below are not actually all from today. They stretch all the way back to beginning of august.
Exactly three years ago, I wake up at my ex girlfriend parents / formally our old summer cabin outside Skelleftehamn. The night before this morning some of my friends had held a farewell party for me there - waving me goodbye as I was about to leave for my 7 month long internship in London.
That was three years ago.
So I arrived on Tuesday the 19th of August 2003. Karl Tyselius meet me at Edgware Road tube station and told me the latest gossip of the flat and London as he walked me home to the flat at Frampton Street.
My first evening in London was spend with really nice friends in a Italian restaurant on Edgware Road. I had carbonara, a glass of red and it cost me £7.
Below is a piece of text I wrote for my then current website a few months after I arrived… or more exactly 890 days ago. I quite like it, and I do believe it belongs in this post.
If you are about to call someone in this country, and you not happen to be in it yourself - the story begins, like this one, with 0044.
In this weird 0044 country, were people still insist on driving on the left side of the road, I will stay (not until they realize that driving on the right side can be quite a good idea, nor until they start to use the metric system I, or others by the way, can understand and find useful, but…) for a while.
The hard truth is that you will not find me back in my beautiful home country, country 0046 (normal traffic, metric system), for the next -890 days.
Until then - take care, and don’t hesitate to begin the 0044 story sometimes to drop a “hello” or a “how are you feeling today my good old friend?”, because I may need it from time to time (It’s not because I believe I will miss 0046, my friends and family that much - I’ll survive, it’s more…) to make sure that everything is still fine outside the protecting walls of the land where people like Blair, Tracy Lords, Liam and Noel pay their taxes, the land of James Bond and Roger Moore, the land with the number zero zero four four.
Of my last three cinema visits, 2/3 were “blockbusterius”. With titles as ‘Superman Returns’ and ‘Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest’ you can’t expect anything else then a similar rubberish feeling you get after have listen to a 120bpm hit song produced by Max Martin (or similar). But still… even though my expectations were low - I’m very very disappointed of them both. They were not good.
So, the length of the review will mirror my gratitude.
Superman Returns
They could at least have shown ‘The super hero of all time’ some respect. Made me wish he never left (or came back).
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest.
The title of this movie should include: episode 2 of 3.
